Wave of War, Ocean of Fear
by LordOfThePeasants
Summary: Finnick's son is faced with a daunting role to fill, and is to terrified to do so. What happens when a boy who is so afraid of war is forced to join one of the biggest, longest wars the ruins of Panem has ever seen? "I'm going to offer you some advice, Callan. Find something worth fighting for." ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

_My name is Callan Odair. I am seventeen years old. My father died in the Mockingjay rebellion, and the war still wages on yet._

Yes, seventeen years of war, well, not so much war, rather the subsequent fall out. Seventeen years of weakened groups, the Mockingjay rebellion groups, and Panem supporters, still had small fights. Any time anything resembling a stable government started to solidify, the other party would fight furiously, and the structure would collapse.

Many people blamed the Mockingjay herself, Katniss Everdeen. Callan didn't, though. He knew it wasn't her fault, she hadn't planned it. She had befriended Callan's father, Mother, and Godmother, Johanna. If her revolution hadn't stopped the 76th games, and all after that, 391 children would have been murdered, and Callan persistently reminded critisicers of Katniss of that fact.

Sure, more than that have been killed in the revolution, members of both parties, but they were soldiers. They volunteered to die for their belief's, they weren't drawn out of a bowl.

Callan was a rebel, a Mockingjay. Panem was the reason for his father's death, and the reason for his mother's mental instability, and the reason for his godmother's horrific terror flashbacks. He knew they needed a new system of government, but he didn't know what it took to get that.

Johanna had become sort of a second mother. She was rough around the edges, but truly, one of the most selfless, loving people Callan knew. She moved to district four with his mother to help raise him since his mother was not entirely capable. That enough was more than anyone else had done, but it does not factor Johanna's terror of water. The woman had been tortured by the capital by being soaked in water, and electrocuted. The change at first, was terrifying, with the victor's village right by the sea, but she adjusted.

The boy now sat in my small canoe a few hundred yards off shore, watching the sun begin to set, enjoying the peace of the sea before returning home. He knew he had work to do when he got back, like helping his mother and Johanna prepare dinner, and making up the guest room for Katniss, Peeta, and their children, who were visiting. Their son had been partially named for my father, and partially for Katniss' stylist. The name was Cinnick, and their first daughter, the eldest, was Primrose, for Katniss' sister. Callan stretched his long arms and arched his back in, loosening the tight muscles before paddling back, relishing the salty breeze in his hair.

His frame was similar to his fathers, apparently. Tall, long limbed, and slender. His jaw and cheeks were defined in the same hard, square shape with slightly hollowed cheeks. The same straight, narrow nose, straight brow, small, slightly full mouth, and large, sea green eyes. Callan even had the same dimples when he smiled (which was not often). The only physical trait of his father he lacked was his golden hair, instead he had dark brown hair tinged with red, coming from his mother. He also had his mother's quiet, reserved demeanor. He hated violence and killing, making his position as a rebel more of a passive, moral position. He couldn't stand the violence and was afraid that the Mockingjay's would draft him for any wars that were too come.

He had arrived on shore and hauled the canoe into his family's boat shed, jaw clenched as the thought of battle seared its way through his mind once again. He pushed the back door of his open and stepped into the kitchen.

"CALLAN DECLAN ODAIR I KNOW YOU ARE NOT WALKING INTO THIS HOUSE WITH SANDY FEET." His mother yelled. Callan backed up slowly and stepped out on to the patio, using the metal pump to rinse his feet, before walking back in.

"For Christ's sake." Callan swore under his breath as he stepped in the sand he'd just tracked in.

"That's what you get for tracking it in the first time!" Johanna teased as Callan took the broom from the kitchen and swept the sand out. He entered the kitchen for the third time and kissed his mother and Johanna on the cheek.

"Okay, honey, go set up the guest rooms and then clean up."

"Rooms?" Callan asked his mother in surprise.

"Yes, rooms. Prim is seven now and Cinnick is six, too big to sleep with their parents," his mother informed him. Callan nodded and walked up stairs, hastily making the beds with fresh sheets and fluffing the pillows. He stretched the quilts to make them even and perfectly neat. He entered his bathroom and stripped down, turning on a stream of hot water and letting it soothe his sore muscles from training for the rebellion.

He struggled for breath as he was overwhelmed by the terror of fighting. Of being killed, of watching his mother and Johanna being killed. Of killing. He remembered the bloody scene of terror far inland within the district when he was fourteen. He had fought then. He had been so full of vile hatred and bitterness he fought. He speared someone, a girl, barely older than he was, with a trident and felt the blood splatter on his face, and she collapsed onto him. His clothing became soaked with her blood and he watched the life fade from her. He had used his father's weapon of choice, and was the same age Finnick was when he had won the games.

Callan was suddenly aware that he was sobbing on the shower floor and forced himself up. He quickly washed down with soap, focusing only on each movement of showering and washing. He got out and dried off, hearing additional voices down stairs, he knew the guests had arrived. He rushed out of his room after he changed, almost crashing into Johanna, who was also coming down stairs.

"ah there you are. I was wondering if you'd gotten…distracted," she said cautiously. Callan stared into her brown eyes and it was clear she had heard him crying. "You can talk to me, Callan. I'm not as vulnerable as your m-"

"My mother isn't vulnerable. And neither am I," Callan snapped, edging around her. She grabbed him and forced her back.

"You have a weakness, and your weakness happens to be a heart. But people are dying, Callan, and you're more likely to save your mother than I am, and save those who you love than I am so you're going to have to adjust to the idea of killing for a good cause because that's what this is. Your father was forced to kill merely to survive. He didn't want to do it. It's normal and human you don't want to kill. But you can be a hero."

"I am not my father! I will never be able to fill his shoes, Johanna, and you can clearly see that. I will never be a hero." Callan spat. Johanna stared at him furiously and sighed.

"We'll talk about this later. In the meantime, I'm going to offer you some advice, Callan. Find something worth fighting for. That's the only thing that kept your father fighting until he couldn't do it any more, that's what's kept your mother sane, and that's why I was able to cope and not kill myself. And YOU, Callan, were the reason for all of that." Johanna hissed at him, before descending the stairs.

Callan struggled to regain composure before turning and following the older woman down the stairs to the parlor.

Katniss turned and smiled at him, and Primrose hugged his legs.

"Hello, Katniss," he said, forcing a smile. She stepped forward and hugged him slightly.

"Gosh, you look more like your father everyday." She said, looking into his eyes. Callan had to force his smile even bigger at the intended compliment. The more he got compared to Finnick, the worse he felt fore being so weak.

"Hey all, we uh…we have a surprise for you." Peeta's voice came from behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

Cinnick charged past his father, latching on to Callan's legs and causing the young man to topple backwards, catching himself on a table.

"What's the surprise?" Johanna asked as Peeta walked into the room. Peeta glanced at Katniss, who smiled in turn.

"Well it's two things actually. One is more of a question, anyways. The first thing is Peeta and I have decided to move here, into one of the houses in the Victor's Village. We cleared it with the district mayor." The individual district governments were one of the few things still functioning, and sporadically throughout the nation, too.

"That's spectacular! It'll be great having familiar faces so close!" Annie said, grinning radiantly, and sincerely for the first time in a very long while. Callan set his jaw, slightly put off. Looking at Johanna he could tell she was thinking the same chronically-pessimistic way he was. District four generally had some poor sentiment about the Mockingjay. Her presence here could endanger the family.

"Now the question… We'd…well, we'd like to know if Johanna would be Cinnick's godmother…and Callan be Prim's godfather." Peeta said cautiously. Callan imeidietly looked at his mother, wondering if she would feel offended by being skipped over, but she was beaming at him.

"They discussed this with me already…I could not even raise you by myself. I would never be able to protect a child who isn't my own."

"And I could?!" Callan barked in alarm. Johanna was staring at Cinnick in shock, before nodding.

"I ….I would be flattered to raise Cinnick, but what would ever be the reason?"

"Shut up, Johanna." Katniss sneered at her old friend. "You know, I can see it. Callan knows, too. I'm no hero to either side, just a mutual target to most of them. I'll lay low and hopefully be okay, but should anything happen…" She broke off as Primrose gazed at her. "Prim, go upstairs with your brother and settle in." She said brusquely. Prim looked at her strangely.

"Why settle in? We're only here for a day." She muttered. But she was already leaving with Cinnick behind her. Peeta picked up their bags and followed them up the stairs.

"She's wise beyond her years," Annie remarked. Katniss nodded grimly.

"My sister, Prim, was as well." Katniss stared blankly at the stairs where her family had just ascended, and Callan turned his back and was helping Johanna prepare dinner, as Katniss spoke again. "War is coming,"

"It's here. Been here for years, since we met," Johanna said bleakly, glancing over her shoulder as she diced a tomato. Katniss sighed.

"Yes but it's worsening. Suddenly there are several different groups of rebels and government supporters. None are all too pleased with me, and to find out I've moved here, we could be in danger." Katniss said sullenly. "I don't want the children getting hurt, or Peeta."

"Being blunt," Annie said, looking Katniss in the face hard, she continued. "They won't hurt Peeta, nor will they touch your children. The rebels are the ones around here, not supporters, and they're so opposed to all government ideals, killing kids is too similar to the Games, and the events in the Capital Circle that killed your sister, and others. Prim and Cinnick will be safe. As for Peeta, I doubt they'll hurt him. He had nothing to do with the over throwing thirteen. You shot Coin, which was better for all, but it crumbled any government that could have been stabilized. You're who they will kill."

Callan had never heard this sort of blunt pessimistic truth from his mother in his life. He turned.

"But…we…you can't die." He struggled for words, then burst out "yes, things are getting worse. Change is coming. The kids can't stay with you. They'll live here. You and Peeta will move into your house, and I'll stay there too, for added protection. Johanna will protect here."

They gawked at him, and Katniss's voice came out shaky as she said:

"But that's not the only problem," Callan turned, and saw that the woman had her hands gently over her stomach, her face distressed.

"Surprise." Peeta said grimly.


	3. Chapter 3

"Wh—what?" Annie stuttered in shock, staring at the couple in entrance to the kitchen. Peeta had tears in his eyes, and Katniss dropped her gaze to the floor.

"We don't know the gender yet…we will in a few weeks, though." Katniss said quietly.

"A child? Now? I mean, things have been bad for almost twenty years, but it's worse now! There's no way you two would be ignorant to that fact when you did—" She motioned to Katniss' stomach, where a subtle bump that previously went unnoticed, was suddenly impossible to miss "_**that." **_ She finished. Katniss' head snapped up and she glared at her older friend coldly.

"'That' will be my son or daughter soon. And times are bad, obviously, Peeta and I have been painfully aware of that since Prim was born, we didn't mean t—"

"Didn't mean too?" Callan roared uncharacteristically. "You have two children! You know what it takes to make a child, for fucks sake—"

"Callan—" Annie warned,

"No, You know that having sex can make a child and there are easy methods to prevent it, what were you thinking?" The teen glared cruelly at the couple, seething. He and Johanna seemed to be the only ones reacting somewhat appropriately to this.

"We weren't thinking," Peeta said, "we should have been, we were stupid."  
"Yeah, I would expect a couple who won the hunger games twice to know basic biology and have the capacity to combine that with common sense." Johanna spat. "Especially you, Katniss. No offense Peeta, but Katniss has always been more clever with that survival area."  
"That's why I can protect my children. Peeta isn't useless. You know that." Katniss defended. Callan took a deep breath and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Facing the facts even I wasn't born into a good time. Cinnick and Prim clearly weren't either. But that child is worse off. Katniss, the baby will—" He started.

"Enough. It's dinnertime. What's done is done. They made a stupid mistake, and I highly recommend you tell none of your children that, but it cannot be reversed, and we have to protect it. Especially you, Callan, with your new fangled plan." Annie said. Callan's jaw clenched, his oceanic eyes staring at the floor. He had spoken out of a strange spurt of passion, most likely inspired but Johanna, and now he was in too deep. He knew what he'd said had been right, and that he had to do it, but he didn't want to. "Let's eat dinner." Annie said brusquely, standing up and getting plates out of a cabinet.

"I'll serve. " Callan volunteered, moving over the pot on the stove.

"What are we having?" Peeta asked, having been summoned from upstairs. His voice was strained but chipper.

"Calamari marinara. " Callan responded "With Spaghetti." He added, scooping some of the pasta onto the older mans plate. He studied Peeta's face and could see lines and creases on his face, pale grey streaks in his light hair, shadows cast under his clouded blue eyes. The man was torn up and wounded, no doubt under a lot of stress.

Dinner was a somber affair, the air tense while everyone kept up a conversation for the children's sake. Afterwards, the children were tucked in to bed, and the adults moved into the living room with drinks to further discuss the plan for the next few months, while Callan cleaned the dishes. He stared out the window as he put the last dishes away and saw a lone figure standing on the dock adjacent to his.

He stepped outside into the warm evening, walking slowly across the sand, feeling it's grainy warmth against his cold toes.

"Permission to come aboard?" he asked, his voice lighter than it had been in a while. The figure turned his head and nodded.

"Hey, Ven."

"Callan, it's been a while." He said calmly. His real name was Venilia, which meant 'Of the sea and winds', but Callan preferred the shorter nickname. He was older than Callan by two years, but slightly shorter. His hair was short and dark brown, eyes a strange golden color, unusual for someone of district four. He was the son of a victor from years ago, the son of her and one of her lovers, whom she was forced to sleep with by President Snow. He was often made fun of for it, called a 'bastard child' and a 'dirty child' from his birth. Some even suspect his mother did it to get out of the vicious prostitution cycle, he was proud of that theory.

"Yeah it has been…" Callan said, staring at the darkened water. He was silent for several seconds before his friend spoke again.

"I'm waiting for an excuse as to why you haven't shown up to rallies, but at the same time I'm in no mood to swallow your shit, Odair." The boy had turned his head now, his golden eyes piercing the younger through the evening din.

"Well, then, why pitch a fit about it?" Callan answered grumpily. Ven turned so his back was leaning against a post of the dock.

"I guess I do want an excuse."

"I don't see the point, those rally's don't do anything, Ven, the rowel people up and suddenly no one knows the enemy or ally. I've been training on my own an-"

"And trying to grow out of being a coward." Ven snapped. Callan lunged at the other boy, slamming him into the dock so he swore in pain, before kicking his chest and launching the older kid into the ocean. Ven launched out of the water, managing to grab Callan by the back of his knees and dragging him into the sea as well.

"I forgot how high you could jump." Callan spluttered, his normally light hair plastered across his forehead in dark clumps. Ven stared at him.

"Looks like your fight training is paying off, let's see your swimming skills." And with that, the young man took of swimming towards shore. Callan shot after him and soon over took him. Suddenly his knee and hand slammed into the sand and he struggled to his feet, his clothes soaked and heavy, and ran onto the shore. Ven came up several seconds after him.

"You're losing your touch old man." Callan panted, running his fingers quickly through his thick hair and spinning off droplets of water. Ven had his hands on his hips and laughed. "Maybe you should quite the rallies and start trai—" He broke off as he heard screams and crashing from his home. He barely had time to see confusion flood in Ven's face before he took off running.

He crashed through the back door and saw three masked men screaming. One lunged towards the stairs where Cinnick and Prim stood, but a second yanked him back.

"NOT THE KIDS." The man roared. Peeta lunged at them and the third man grabbed Peeta by the head, drove his elbow into Peeta's back and threw the unconscious man into the living room. Annie ran upstairs with the children while Johanna struggled in the first mans grip. Katniss was nowhere to be seen. The second man raised a nightstick and prepared to strike Johanna, but Callan moved. He slammed the man, who was smaller than him, into the frame of the door, his hands finding his throat. He was vaguely aware of the second and third man pulling him away. He was suddenly torn away by the first man, his arms pinned behind his back. Johanna had been knocked unconscious. The third man began punching Callan while the other feebly moved on the floor. Ven leaped in and dragged the man off Callan. Callan twisted out of the man's grip and punched him. He yanked a blade off the man's belt and flung the sheath away. He lunged at the man but the second man, the one on the floor, grabbed his shins and he crashed to the floor. The man still standing stomped on Callan, aiming for his neck but getting his shoulder as Callan twisted around. As the man raised his foot again, Callan lunged up and drove the long blade into the man's thigh. He screamed and fell back into the parlor. Callan swung around and drove the knife into the second mans ribs. He was fully aware that he would kill the man, and fully intended to. The man gasped and agony and Callan twisted the blade. As the intruder bled to death, he looked up. Ven's face was bloody and the third man was face down, unconscious on the floor. Peeta was standing slowly, and Ven gawked at him as he stepped in. Callan stood, suddenly aware of the soreness in his abdomen. He helped Johanna to her feet and noticed that the man in the parlor was dead, as well. Callan must have got an artery when he drove the blade into his thigh.

"Stay up there, Mom." Callan called, voice shaking. "Don't come down until we tell you to."

Johanna stared at him, and then at the two dead bodies. Behind him, Ven and Peeta were tying the third intruder to a chair, Peeta's face twisted in pain and sadness, Ven still looked dumbfounded as he stared at the older man.

"What happened?" Johanna asked.

"I found something worth fighting for." Callan panted.

"You….you're Peeta." Ven said, pointing at Peeta, his face had something in it that made Callan very uneasy.

"They…they took Katniss…they stole her…" Peeta choked out.


	4. Chapter 4

"Stole her?" Johanna hissed, leaning against the door way to the parlor, the intruders blood pooling at her feet. "How…how did I not notice? How did this happen?" she had her hand towards her throat.

"While you were struggling, before Callan came in, two other men came in, and dragged her out." Peeta said softly. He suddenly wheeled around at Callan, inches away. "Where were you?" He bellowed "Why weren't you in the house? You're supposed to protect her!" he was livid, eyes wild and burning, hair ruffled, blood smudged across his face.

"I…I…I'm sorry…I wasn't expecting anything to happen, not now… I—"

"Shut up!" Peeta yelled, cutting Callan off. Callan winced back, Johanna put a hand on his shoulder.

"Peeta, it isn't Callan's fault. No one saw this coming. Who's to say Callan could have stopped this?" Johanna soothed. Peeta deflated and slumped down on the stairs.

"Callan, I'm sorry…I—"

"Daddy?" Primrose called from upstairs. Peeta stared in alarm at the two dead bodies at his feet and stood, climbing the stairs hurriedly.

"We have to get rid of these bodies." Johanna said plainly. Callan nodded numbly.

"I'll do it if you get rid of the blood," He offered. Johanna laughed dryly.

"Deal." Callan picked up on of the bodies, and Ven stared at it, his face twisted and harsh as he picked up the second. The third man was still unconscious in the chair, breathing even.

As the two young men walked into the velvet dark, Ven stared around.

"Okay, now what do we do?" He demanded. Ven unceremoniously dropped the man he was carrying onto the dirt, and walked over, dragging his canoe off of it's rack. Ven eyed him warily. "You're setting them to sail?" He said cynically. Callan straightened up as he laid the boat down on the shore, staring at Ven dryly.

"Not going to waste my time digging a hole for these people," he said frostily. "We set the boat on fire and push it to sea. The current takes it out as it burns, and they're gone." He muttered, dumping his body into the canoe, faced down, blood smudging the pale wood. Ven didn't move, only crossed his arms.

"Their names are Denny and Thom." He hissed. Callan met his eyes mercilessly.

"Well it's a damn shame to be them, then. They shouldn't have attacked my family." Callan said, voice low.

"Katniss and Peeta are not your family, they—"

"Are not to blame for this shit whole. It's the incompetent people in charge of both these groups." Ven's lip pulled up in a scowl.

"You murdered them." He said impatiently, motioning to the carcass still on the sand. Callan stepped towards him, and Ven stepped back, wanting to get away from him. Callan dumped the second body on top of the first.

"And he—" Ven said, pointing to he body on top, "Tried hurting the kids. They deserved to die…Both of them helped in the kidnapping of a pregnant woman." He added dryly, turning and striding towards a shed, and taking out a bottle of lighter fluid. Before he turned he saw slight shock on the face of the older boy. He poured the fluid over the two bodies and the wooden frame of the canoe, and pushed it towards the water, Ven trailing a few steps behind. Wordlessly, pulled a matchbox out of his pocket and struck one, dropping it into the boat. Flames roared up and the two boys silently shoved it out into the ocean, watching it drift out. Callan stepped back and slumped down in the sand, watching the flaming boat float away.

"You made that yourself." Ven said, standing above him.

"I did," Callan replied, watching it burn away. They were silent for several minutes until the boat disappeared, having broken apart and sending it's remains, and the charred cargo, sinking into the black water.

"I didn't know she was pregnant… If I had… I would have gone after those two guys." Ven said, then inhaled sharply as Callan turned to look at him.

"You saw them…? Yes….you came…through the _front_ door. You saw them run past, you didn't stop them." Callan said flatly. Ven was staring at him miserably. "This is your fault, you led them to us!" He yelled, standing up so he stood over him.

"Cal, I'm sorry," He croaked.

"Go to hell! You knew because I told you, so yeah, it's partially my fault for trusting you!" he snapped. Ven flinched, and Callan continued. "But that's just it. You knew. You knew what they meant to me. You know they are as much family to me as Annie and Johanna, so why you even made that ignorant comment I d—"

"Johanna isn't your family, either." Ven cut in. Callan wheeled around and punched him, his hand, or Ven's jaw, or both, cracked at the contact. Ven smashed into the sand, water washing gently around him as the tide rose.

"They're the only family I have, and at least it's a good one. At least they love me, you filthy, bastard child." Callan snarled. Ven's jaw was already showing dark color from the punch, and his face flushed with rage and hurt at Callan's comment.

As Callan walked back into his house, he reflected on what had happened. Everything about this night had been so uncharacteristic of him, like some kind of poison had taken over his mind over the past few hours. He walked up to his room and pulled on his canvas barn jacket, softly lined fleece, and a worn pair of boat shoes, jogging down the back staircase. The front foyer smelled of cleaning fluid, but the blood was gone, Johanna sat in the parlor, staring down the intruder.

"Johanna…I need to take a walk." Callan said, not waiting for a response as he stepped into the cool evening and slipping quietly down the smooth stone of the victors village, and onto the mangled cobble stone of the town. He was not aware of how far he had walked when a soft voice called his name.

"Callan…" He turned to see a girl around his age, with soft golden hair and navy blue eyes.

"Cora, hey." He said as the girl stepped out of her doorway and into the street. She was wearing a pale blue sleeved dress, and a white apron. "You're still working?" She shrugged.

"I just got off." She said, untying her apron.

"I'll walk you, I need to clear my head." Callan said as they began walking.

"Do you know what got Ven so upset earlier? He came in here raging earlier, got drunk, and stormed out hours later…I don't know what's happened, I'm worried." Cora said. Callan's face blushed at the mention of Ven, the fight earlier resurfacing in his mind. He was thankful for the dim lighting on the street so she couldn't see him.

"No, I don't know what's happened to him…I'll look around after you get home, make sure he's safe and all." Callan said, forcing a chuckle. Cora slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, slipping the other hand on top.

"Thank you…he's one of my closest friends." She said as they came to her door. He smiled at her in the new brightness of her porch light. "Well, go—" He was cut off by her suddenly pushing her lips on his. He stayed stiff as her tongue slid into his mouth. He pushed back as she tried drawing him closer. "uh-hh…I—I'm sorry, but I have to…home…should search for Ven, you know, he's not good when he's drunk." He struggled to get out. She smiled understandingly.

"Yeah, I'm sorry that was so abrupt...I don't really have an explanation. Can you let me know when you find him?" She asked.

"Yeah of course, want me to call?" Callan asked. She shook her head.

"Our phone is out…I'll be up for a while, if you don't mind stopping by?" Callan nodded.

"Sure, no problem…goodnight!" he said, walking away from the porch, head spinning after the kiss. It was so sudden and abrupt and warm. He shivered, suddenly feeling the chill again. He zipped his coat up and walked towards the rocky outcrop where Ven would most likely be.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**A/N: This chapter contains very mild content (Kissing, implications) But nothing overly graphic, I wanted to warn you just in case.**

Callan walked out onto the rock jetty at the south end of town, miles away from his own home. He saw a dark, shadowy figure at the end, and walked out towards it.

_Christ, I hope this is Ven and not someone else._ He thought as his feet crossed the uneven terrain. As he approached, he could tell by the slant of the mans shoulders, and the crooked hunch and head tilt that it was Ven. A slightly tipsy Ven, who's shirt had been discarded. Callan shook his head in dismay as he approached, realizing that the boy's shorts were also gone, leaving only his boxers.

"Ven." He said tersely. The older boy turned and gave Callan a strange look, then motioned for him to sit. As Callan settled down on a flat stone, the reek of vodka rolled off of Ven, along with another sour stench.

Ven had vomited into the ocean, thankfully not where Callan was sitting. The dark-haired boy clutched a water bottle in his wide hands, trembling slightly.

"Where are your clothes?" Callan asked. Ven laughed and shrugged.

"I dunno. I got hot and took my shirt off…then I threw up in my shorts and.." his eyes glowed with recognition. "Ohhhh…I threw them in to wash!" He said, pointing vaguely towards the ocean. Callan shook his head and stared out at the black water, waves lapping softly at the stones. Several minutes of pure silence passed before Ven spoke again.

"I screwed up…" He choked out, avoiding Callan's eyes. "I knew Katniss and Peeta were coming, I mentioned it at the Rally, because I knew you wouldn't be there to hear me…they had it all planned out, to take her away and all…I was supposed to distract you tonight, go into your house and get you out, but I couldn't do it…" He laughed dryly "You came to me."

"And you never thought to tell me to get back inside, you never admitted what you did. It took you getting drunk to admit that you screwed up?" Callan said unforgivingly. Ven bit his bottom lip sadly.

"I was ashamed."

"That isn't helping you, if you were truly ashamed you would have felt even more obligation to tell me you messed up. Unless you mean you felt ashamed of betraying your little rally friends." Callan snapped at him. "I'm not the enemy, Ven. nor is Katniss. The Capitol supporters are gaining power and structure, harming Katniss won't aid you in any way, except to motivate the Capitol to beat the shit out of you even more." Callan explained angrily. Ven buried his face in his hands, his hair ruffled.

"You aren't the enemy, Callan…you're my best friend, you're never going to be my enemy." Ven said sadly. "You-" trailed off, and turned to face Callan, who was watching Ven in concern. He suddenly had a really intense, uneasy look on his face. He moved, suddenly, quicker than Callan anticipated from Ven. He pinned Callan against the rocks, trapping Callan. He was heavier than Callan remembered. He struggled vainly to free himself but Ven was solid muscle. He didn't seem this strong earlier today when Callan tackled him off the dock.

_He lied to me._ Callan thought in terror. _ I am his enemy. He's going to drown me, beat me, kill me somehow._ Callan met Ven's golden eyes, pupils so dilated his eyes were like an eclipse, the gold barely visible.

"G'rr off me!" Callan tried heaving himself up but he couldn't get enough weight to throw off the older boy. Ven smirked and leaned down, crushing his lips against Callan who, once again, stiffened in shock. Ven's hand was locked firmly on Callan's jaw and the back of his neck, the other on his chest. Callan's hands were both pressed against Ven's chest. Suddenly Callan was aware that he, himself, was kissing back.

Everything seemed dim and slow, except for the actual process of kissing. It was warm and frantic, Callan wriggled his arms out of his jacket so it fell limp beside him, and Ven's tongue slipped into his mouth, his right hand running down his chest to the button on Callan's jeans, undoing it. Callan became hyper aware of what was happening, snapping out of his haze, he realized a nearly-naked Ven was on top of him, and incredibly excited, Callan judged by a bulge in Ven's boxers. The older boy gave a distracted moan of pleasure and Callan squirmed out from under him, nearly knocking the other boy into the water. Callan's face burned in embarrassment as Ven stared up at him, shocked and hurt.

"Wha-?" Ven began, but Callan cut him off.

"No…uh, where my jacket. Get home, and warm up, I must—" Callan never finished as he rushed back down the jetty, onto land.

He walked quickly through the town, back to a small house with a porch light. He knocked on the door, and it was quickly opened by Cora.

"Callan, come in, where's your coat? You must be freezing!" Cora exclaimed, stepping aside so Callan could step in.

"I gave it to Ven…he's safe." Callan said, though he didn't actually know if it was true or not. "You…look beautiful." He murmured. She was wearing soft lounge pants, and a tank top, but her pale hair cascaded down from her head, her navy eyes vibrant.

"Thanks, uhm…That's good that Ven's safe." She said, smiling at him. He tipped his head slightly.

"When do you're parent's get off work?" He asked.

"They just went in ten minutes ago. They won't be off until six in the morning," She said. IT was midnight now.

"Good." Callan said, his voice low and hungry. He grabbed Cora's face in his hands, desperately latching his fingers in her fair, his tongue grazing her mouth. He pulled away. "I'm sorry about earlier…I… I didn't realize I really wanted you," He said huskily. She just nodded and pulled him closer, closing the distance between their lips again.

**A/N: So there will be an additional chapter, separate from this story, rated M where it contains what happens with Cora and Callan in full detail. If you want to read it, go to my page, but only if you are old enough. This will also be where I publish any other sexual encounters within the story. The chapter will be published in a couple of hours.**


	6. AUTHORS NOTE

**Important Authors Note:**

** So, I haven't updated this story for a while, and I'm sorry to anyone who was into it. Unfortunately, I have had a writers block over the next few chapters, and where I want the story to go in general.**

** This story is much harder to write than "They Can't Hurt Me" and "Sharp Knives and Soft Skin" because whereas those are based (loosely) off the books, and both have alternate endings, I still have a preset storyline to follow.**

**Unfortunately I did not have, nor did I make, a storyline for this story so I'm kind of at brick wall now.**

** Also, I've started my second semester, and this semester is going to be very challenging, so I have even less time, but I will be working on a storyline and a better plot for this story in free time I have.**

** Until then, this story is on hiatus. I will remove this note when I post the next new chapter.**

** Thank you to those who read it, and to those waiting for the next chapter.**


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